Will I?
by Latebloomnriter
Summary: Scott's thoughts on why he quickly accepted Murdoch's partnership offer.


Will I?

Scott's thoughts on why he quickly accepted Murdoch's partnership offer.

Note: To the best of my knowledge and belief, this story is fair use of copyrighted material, as there is no commercial use and no loss of potential market or value of the original material will occur.

Rated T for brief profanity

It is an understatement to say that the offer was a surprise. It was my second surprise of the night. Barbara's father had nearly caught me in her boudoir earlier, and I escaped over the balcony. He had never come so close to catching me before. My other escapes, again over the balcony, were during the wee hours of the morning, long past the evening's entertainment.

The Pinkerton agent had clearly studied my habits to follow me and approach me that night. I was going to brush by him when he mentioned Murdoch Lancer, but the rest of the message stopped me short.

My father wanted to see me. He was offering $1000 for my expenses and one hour of my time.

Even Grandfather never earned-and certainly never paid- such an hourly rate for his business advice.

The offer weighed on me as my head cleared from my night's adventure. Why now, why would he contact me now? I ignored Grandfather's admonitions, other than noting how unusually animated he was about my not responding to the invitation. I parsed the information upside down and sideways, trying to decipher the meaning, and what those few words indicated.

He must be a man of some means after all to offer $1000, on top of hiring the Pinkertons, not a penniless dreamer who bewitched my trusting mother. He must have found success in California after all.

It would not be a simple request. For that, he could have written and stated his interest. No, but offering money-and he surely knew I did not lack for adequate funds-must mean that he knew he had no right to request anything of me. I felt a certain appreciation that Murdoch Lancer did not presume to ask a favor of the son he abandoned.

Was it a business deal? Was he ill, and feeling the weight of past regrets? That would mean he wanted to see me for a personal reason. My resistance wilted. Despite my past declarations of hatred, I knew I wanted to see him. I relayed my acceptance of the invitation to the Pinkerton agent, and received travel directions. On impulse, on the chance that he really did want to know me, I packed the picture of me and General Sheridan, so that Lancer would learn some of the major events of my life.

The request could not have come at a better time. After my illness from the prison camp, I served out my enlistment and finished my last two years at Harvard. Then there was the grand tour. All of this kept me distracted, at least some of the time, from memories of the war. It was more difficult to put the past behind me when I returned home. While no longer imprisoned, I still felt a sense of confinement within the expected bounds of decorum and rituals. I did a certain amount of work with Grandfather, but spent more time practicing my newfound religion. I worshipped at the altar of the unholy trinity of drinking, brawling, and fucking. I wondered if this meeting would somehow lead to more productive endeavors. At least, more productive than the drinking and brawling.

I felt the confinement slip away as I headed west. There was St. Louis, where I had spent so much time in the latter part of my enlistment. Farther west, there was that sense of openness that I never felt in Boston. What was awaiting me?

A brother awaited me. I never expected _that_. I had briefly wondered if Murdoch Lancer had ever married again, and if I had siblings, but when I mentioned the subject years ago to Grandfather, he assured me that while he had never heard from Lancer, surely such a selfish man, obsessed with trying to build an empire, would never want another family.

I always wanted a kid brother, someone play with, to help, and to trust. I had friends who had such relationships. This grown man, rather rude, is nothing I would have imagined. I found myself stealing looks at him on occasion as we were driven home. He too had received a visit from a Pinkerton agent and accepted the invitation. My guess is that unlike me, he does lack funds. I cannot imagine his story.

I learn that the girl expertly driving the wagon is Murdoch's ward. She seems to adore him. That is rather intriguing, given that he apparently has rejected not one but two sons. "As far as the eye can see. The most beautiful place in the world. Lancer."

We had stopped on a ridge overlooking a valley. It was green and lush, like the valleys of the Shenandoah before we laid waste to them. Here a man could breathe deeply. How rewarding it would be to grow and build something beautiful for a change, instead of destroying. I could understand a little about what this place must mean to Murdoch Lancer. He truly had built an empire. I learn too that he was shot in a battle that killed the girl's father. Perhaps one of my thoughts was correct after all, and Murdoch Lancer, having felt his mortality, wanted to see the physical evidence of his existence.

The home is enormous, in the Spanish style. Yes, Lancer has done well.

It is not just the house which is enormous, but Murdoch Lancer himself. I had not envisioned this. He is not a welcoming host. Abrupt, hostile, almost too much so. I think he doth protest too much. It reminds me of a preemptive attack. _So you do understand that you hurt your son, don't you?_ I was right; he does know that he is not entitled to any favors. He tries to protect himself, I think. Perhaps he wants something from these sons, and fears our rejection. His fear is valid. I wonder if he wishes to extend an olive branch, but he is awkward and the branch has thorns. Few would grasp it. Only those who are exceptional would consider doing so. Am I such a person? What of this brother?

I am in no hurry to take the envelope of money he tosses on the desk. "You'll do as you're told!" Lancer barks at me.

I snap back "Will I?" After a lifetime succession of nannies, tutors, headmasters, officers, prison guards, and Grandfather, I no longer take orders so readily.

Murdoch Lancer-I cannot call him father- angrily says there will be no apologies. _You are right, an apology would be inadequate, to say the least_. The past is to be buried. Does he think it is that easy? Or does he perhaps know the secret for putting aside the past and its nightmares? Maybe he has an answer to this for me.

We hear the reason for the invitation. There have been some attacks in the valley, and his loss of men and threats to the ranch-estancia? I see where this is going. I was right, he wants our help. No, he _needs _our help_._ Whatever I call him, my father needs me to save this magnificent place he has built. He wants arms, legs, and guts to fight off land pirates. Hardly an army, but there have been some deadly skirmishes. This is a problem I know how to deal with.

He offers one-third of his ranch to each son if we can put an end to the threat. So there it is, a chance for me to help create that civilization, and build on Murdoch Lancer's beginnings. I can feel my heart racing, like those moments before a battle, and before I reach that calm of action.

It is not an entirely equal partnership. Lancer will call the tune.

But for the chance to build something worthwhile, a new civilization in this rough and demanding land, a chance to do it better than before! It truly would be a new start in my life, possibly something extraordinary.

Will I endure the inevitable hazing again which comes from being the new man, who has much to learn? I have done that in school, the army, and in prison. Will I persevere and learn to both survive and thrive in this entirely new life? Will I respect and come to care for this stranger who is my father? Will I find a brother, who if not the ideal I imagined, be someone I can someday like and trust? Will I be able to help forge a true family?

Murdoch wants an answer. I smile slightly and incline my head.

I will.


End file.
